Mrs Jameson's Lemonade
by cadeeo
Summary: Sark dreams...


**Mrs Jameson's Lemonade**

Author: Cadeeo

A/N: Sometimes I forget how amazingly beautiful Texas is.

Summery: Sark dreams.

(1/24/10)

_He was dreaming…_

_...  
><em>

It was a hot summer afternoon. Location… Texas. Where… a ranch filled with horses of all kinds and colours.

He heard soft footsteps on the hard sandy ground coming closer to him. There was no danger, just… soft footsteps on a hard sandy ground. Sweat tickled down his face under the cowboy hat, his arms were tanned from hours spent breaking in the newest one, a female of fine descent, and his feet were bare, hidden under the shade of the tree to not burn them. A tray rattled somewhere close to the approaching footsteps and he felt a burn in his throat that told him he'd gone too long without any kind of drink, water or the homemade lemonade from the neighbouring farm, given to him by old Mrs Jameson who could barely stand straight anymore.

'Nice spot,' his wife said, stopping in front of him, the glasses on the tray ringing loudly in the very quiet afternoon.

He opened his eyes and was assaulted by the simple beauty of the woman he had called his for nearly five years now. A woman so amazing, she had made him want to change, made him want to become a man she could love and respect and trust. She was not beautiful like the young starlets on E!, the gossip channel she liked to watch sometimes, but her beauty came from her broad smile and sparkling eyes that had never really lost their innocence even though she had been through more than most. She was a beauty in the most natural kind and every time he looked at her and saw her smiling back with a love that had conquered a man like him, a man of poor morals and a criminal record, which was longer than your average terrorist's, and he could only feel happiness in the most undisguised form.

She sat down beside him on the tree bench and put the homemade iron tray down onto the little garden table, with lilies and leaves carved on its legs. He reached forward and took the can of Mrs Jameson's lemonade, filling one of the colourful plastic cups with Minnie Mouse's happy face to the brim and swallowed all of it the second the cup reached his lips.

'Thank you,' he croaked out, his voice overworked from yelling instructions to the local high school boys who wanted to earn a little cash before school started back up in three weeks.

'You're welcome,' she said, smiling softly and placing her hand on his shortly, before swiftly taking it back, but he grabbed it and held it tightly, feeling the softness, only hardened by the little occasional work she would pick up when the house had driven her insane.

'Where's Conner and Hope?' he asked, briefly shooting a glance towards the impressive house they called their home.

'Your son is sleeping soundly. Even he can't stay awake more than a day.'

'Certainly seems like it sometimes,' he muttered and she smiled.

'Hope's watching cartoons on Disney Channel. Trenton said he would look after them while I went out here,' she told him and he nodded.

She had been involved in a car accident when she had been pregnant with Hope, but a boy lost his drunk of a father and artist mother who cared little for her family. Trenton had been that boy, at that time only sixteen, so she had brought him to their house and saved him from the social services. Now he attended the University of Texas, a top college, with all expenses paid, and came down once in a while to the little family to show that he would never forget them.

'I'm going to call the grey one Firefly,' he commented. 'She almost sparkles in the night.'

She laughed and it was the greatest sound, a sound filled with so much love and happiness that it made his heart contract in sheer pleasure of being the one person able to bring this out in her. 'You always are very poetic with their names.'

'I have many talents, love, poetry is not one of them.'

'Whatever you say, Julian. Whatever you say.'

They sat back; hands clasped together, gold bands of commitment sparkling in the sun even under the shade, and lived their life… one day at the time.

...

_Then, he woke._


End file.
